


(And) I Will Be the One

by Ad_Astra



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, High Speed! 2, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, kisumako week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/pseuds/Ad_Astra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisumi thinks about Makoto, and how he’s all four seasons rolled into one.</p><p>Or, alternatively: A KisuMako Love Story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(And) I Will Be the One

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my incredibly late contribution to KisuMako week. I've been wanting to write something big for this ship for the longest time, and now I'm finally doing it. I'd like to thank the mods for offering such wonderful prompts, and again, my apologies for how late this is.
> 
> This first chapter could actually be read as a stand-alone, but this will span for at least four more chapters. I intend to cover Kisumi and Makoto's relationship in Eternal summer and beyond. This will probably be my last multi-chapter fic in this fandom, so I really want to do justice to this ship. 
> 
> Please be warned that this chapter contains heavy references to High Speed 2, but it should be understandable even without having read the novel. If you know about what happens in the infamous Makoto and Haru beach scene in Chapter 8, then you're good to go. 
> 
> Lastly, as always, I'd like to extend my thanks to my wonderful beta, attemptsonwords. ♥

The whistle blows a split second after the ball is released, sailing in a high arc in the air and hitting the square in the middle of the backboard before tipping into the net.

2 points to Class-2 with a chance for 3-point play.

“Pushing foul, Shigino,” the referee announces. “Free throw to Class-2”

The player who made the shot smiles apologetically in Kisumi’s direction, even if it’s Kisumi who shoved against him in an attempt to block the shot.

Kisumi steps back, wiping the sweat on his cheek with the front of his jersey as he watches the boy make his way to the free throw line. His gaze sweeps the broad line of his shoulders, his impressive height, the way his genial expression shifts to a stern focus as he concentrates on his goal.

 _This is Haru’s best friend,_ he recalls, the one he saw Haru walking home with every day for the past week. Kisumi doesn’t know his name yet, but he’s seen him around enough to know what he’s like— friendly, good-looking, popular and apparently, good at basketball. Probably what one would call a _“boy-next-door”_ type. Kisumi decides to keep an eye on him for the duration of the game.

The boy sinks the free throw shot with ease, and the score turns to 33 - 27, in favour of Class-2’s team.

Kisumi snaps back into game mode and accepts the inward bound pass, letting the ball drop to the ground for the dribble as he makes his way back to his opponent’s court. He keeps his breathing steady, letting the sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor and the comforting bounce of the ball at his feet permeate his movements, keeping his focus.

He meets the boy’s eyes again after he passes the ball to Asahi, and without conscious volition, he smiles.

The boy smiles back.

*

Later, as soon as the bell for lunch break starts, Kisumi wastes no time and excuses himself to go to Class 2, making a beeline straight for the boy, bento and application forms clutched in his hands. Like most tall people, he sits on the far back corner, right next to the window, making him catch most of the noon time sun.

He reaches the boy’s table and flashes him his best smile, the kind that makes the girls in class giggle and blush. “Tachibana Makoto right?” Kisumi learned his name from Haru earlier, when he was cajoling Asahi to join the basketball club with him.

Tachibana’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but they soften once he recognizes Kisumi. “Yes?”

“I’m Shigino Kisumi from Class 1,” he says, smoothing out his hair, still showing him the whites of his teeth. “But please call me Kisumi.”

Tachibana looks confused, but he smiles at Kisumi nevertheless. “Alright. How may I help you Kisumi?”

Kisumi sits down on the empty desk next to him.  “Listen, do you have a club already?”

Tachibana scratches his chin and looks down, his expression sheepish. “Well… no, not yet.”

“Great! Do you want to join the basketball team?” Before Tachibana can reply, Kisumi’s already pressing the application form into Tachibana’s hands

“Um..."

“You played really well in PE today!" Kisumi interrupts, beaming. "I'd really love to see more of your basketball!"

Tachibana looks startled, the application form wrinkling a bit as he fumbles with it. “...I don't...I mean I'm not–”

“Please?" Kisumi pleads. He leans forward and clasps his hands in front of his chest, the way he’s seen cute characters do in his classmates’ favourite shoujo anime. "You’d be so good for our team! There aren’t many first year applicants, so I’m worried there won’t be enough starting members in our third year. You'll be helping us out so much!”

At this, Tachibana blinks and tilts his head to the side, considering. “Well okay then, I’ll think about it,” he assents, smiling shyly.

Kisumi claps his hands excitedly. “Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we shake on it?”

Tachibana laughs softly in amusement but he grasps the hand Kisumi offers just the same. His hand is dry, warm like his eyes and gentle like his smile.

Kisumi only realizes he has shaken Tachibana’s hand for far longer than he’s supposed to when Tachibana looks at their hands funny. He reluctantly lets go, feeling his palm tingle from where they touched. “Thank you so much, Tachibana-kun.”

Tachibana looks amused. “Please call me Makoto."

Kisumi beams, pleased that he has earned this privilege not even five minutes into the conversation. “Alright. Makoto it is then. Ooh, is that tamago?” he asks, pointing to Makoto’s bento.

Makoto nods and moves his food closer to Kisumi. “Yes, would you like some?”

Kisumi’s smile curves even wider, if such a thing is possible. Makoto is so kind. Kisumi really likes him a lot already. “Okay,” he says, reaching out and popping one in his mouth. The tamago is soft, fluffy and sweet, just the way Kisumi likes it. “It’s delicious!” he tells Makoto. His hand brushes against his own bento on the desk he’s sitting on and he perks up, suddenly remembering: “Oh! I brought my lunch with me.” He brings the bag up and shakes it next to his head. “Would it be okay if I eat here?”

“Sure!” Makoto makes room for him, and Kisumi drags an empty chair closer to Makoto’s desk, their knees knocking together. They spend the rest of lunch break chatting, and mooching off each other’s food. As thanks for Makoto’s sushi, Kisumi snaps his chocolate bar in two and gives one half to Makoto, who is delighted at the treat.

Kisumi waves goodbye and leaves Class 2 forty-five minutes later, knowing the following things: Makoto loves chocolate and green curry, and he loves to sleep in on weekends. Makoto has been friends with Haru since they were babies. On weekdays, he usually picks up Haru from his house before heading to school. Makoto struggles with English but excels in Japanese literature. Makoto adores cats and cats adore him. He likes the colour orange, and he has younger twin siblings by the name of Ran and Ren.

These are just random bits of trivia but Kisumi has an excellent memory; they may be important later. Kisumi will make sure they are important. After all, he and Makoto are friends now and friends should know these things about each other.

When Kisumi gets back to his own classroom, he smiles sweetly at Haru, who just throws him a blank look before putting back his utensils in his lunch bag.

The bell signaling the end of lunch rings. There is a surge of lightness in his chest and pleasant warmth tingling all over his skin, and he suddenly finds that he can't stop smiling.

He takes his notebook from his backpack, grabs a pen, and adds the name “Tachibana Makoto” to his basketball team roster.

*

Makoto hands him his filled up application form the next day.

Kisumi can’t help the little skip in his step as he heads toward his classroom, treasuring the wrinkled piece of paper like a trophy.

Briefly, he wonders what Haru will think when he finds out.

*

  
Haru actually does not react much. His brow just knits slightly, barely noticeable, before becoming disinterested in continuing the conversation and letting himself be scolded by Tomo-chan instead. Kisumi is a bit disappointed. He was hoping Haru would consider joining him, now that Makoto’s with them.

Oh well.

He has Makoto at least, and that’s more than enough. Though he’d have liked the set.

Later, after classes end, he practically drapes himself all over Makoto’s shoulders to steer him towards the basketball courts. He greets Makoto’s welcoming smile with his own, before turning around to stick his tongue out at Haru, who just watches them walk away, an unreadable expression on his face.

*

To be perfectly honest, Kisumi wants Haru to join his team too. As much as he’d love to say that he and Makoto can play together really well during the first basketball session, it’s so much different from how Makoto plays with Haru. Or against him even.

His remembers that PE game where he first noticed Makoto, where Makoto blocked every single one of Haru’s shots except for the last one. There’s really something fascinating about watching them play— that game is possibly the only time he’s seen opposing players having such amazing chemistry. Even when Haru and Makoto moved against each other, they moved _together_ , always having the right counteraction for the other's chosen play. It's both distracting and brilliant.

Haru is prickly, mysterious, wrapped up in his own unique view of the world. Makoto, on the other hand, is a lot more similar to Kisumi— friendly and effortlessly bright, like a field of sunflowers at high noon.

If Haru, who is the complete opposite of Makoto, could work so well with him, then isn’t it only logical that Makoto would work well with Kisumi too? Birds of a feather flock together after all.

Still, the two of them have a special connection no one can deny, though Haru certainly tries hard to. They’re so attuned to each other’s movements that it’s just mesmerizing to watch for someone who genuinely loves the sport. Basketball is after all, a team sport, and it’s teamwork that wins games, not star power.

Makoto and Haru are a team of their own. Kisumi is perpetually awed by their ability: the instinctive knowledge that someone has your back, ready to catch you. A seamless relay, perfect harmony.

Kisumi envies that sometimes, but more importantly, he wants it on his team. If he can’t be part of that harmony, then he’d take it working for him.

But Haru is not interested and Kisumi won't force him. He already has Makoto anyway.

*

Except he actually doesn't, because a week later, when basketball club practice starts, Makoto has already left the club.

He only finds out that Makoto has switched over to the swimming club at the last minute when the coach starts without him.

The rest of his recruits are there at least, but Kisumi can’t help feeling sad, bitter, and _betrayed_.

He plays his worst game ever, and the team captain scolds him for his carelessness. He leaves the locker room with his head held down, shoulders slumped.

He deliberately avoids looking at the swimming pool on the way home.

*

Makoto apologizes to him in the form of a pack of mango rock candy.

“I’m sorry for the last minute switch,” Makoto mumbles.

Kisumi wants to say: _Sorry won’t make up for breaking your promise_. Or, _I thought we were friends_. Instead, Kisumi shrugs.

“Hey hey, don’t worry about it! I understand,” Kisumi lies, with his bright toothy grin, even as his chest pangs with disappointment. “It’s only logical, since swimming is really something you like to do. I mean, that’s why you transferred right?”

Makoto looks down, scratches his chin thoughtfully. “...Well, that’s one of the reasons.”

“Eh? Do you mean you also switched because Haru joined too?” Kisumi keeps his tone carefully neutral, despite the envy he could feel rising inside him.

Makoto’s face turns a deep shade of red. “Well yeah… I mean. He’s my best friend. It’s only normal right?”

 _He’s not your only friend_ , Kisumi wants to argue, but he’s too prideful to say it out loud. Instead he asks, “Is there anything you two _don’t_ do together?”

Makoto falls silent. Kisumi is fairly sure he hit a sore spot, but he pretends not to notice.

“Sometimes he swims in the ocean, and I don't join him,” Makoto answers after a while. His voice is soft, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of admitting something out loud. “It's just that his family isn't around much so I try to include him as much as possible so he doesn't get lonely...”

Kisumi waits for a couple of more seconds for Makoto to continue, but it becomes quickly apparent that that was already the full extent of Makoto’s explanation. “I see,” he says, not seeing at all. He forces an understanding smile on his face and scuffs his shoes on the ground. “I suppose that’s what friends do for each other huh?”

“...Yes.”

“Hmmm. Am I your friend, Makoto?”

Makoto looks shocked and a bit hurt that Kisumi would even ask that, but while Kisumi doesn't like making Makoto feel guilty and that Makoto has every right to switch clubs at his leisure, he doesn't allow himself to feel bad about it. “Yes! Of course you are! Kisumi, please, I’m really, truly sorry…” he pleads, wringing his hands in front of him. “Is... Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

Kisumi’s mother taught him something about how making proper apologies is a two-step process: the first is to ask for forgiveness and the second is to ask for a way to make the situation better. It seems that Makoto’s parents taught him the same.

He sits down on the floor and leans against the wall, hugging his legs to his chest, peering at Makoto from between the valley of his knee caps. “Well…“ he starts hesitantly. “I really want to hang out with you more. Can you have lunch with me on this rooftop once a week?”

Makoto’s eyes light up, much to Kisumi’s relief. “Yes, of course!”

Kisumi immediately holds out a hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

Makoto hesitates for a few seconds. Kisumi is not offended because he knows that Makoto’s hesitation is only because he is remembering that the last time he shook hands with Kisumi, he broke his promise.

But after some time, his eyebrows draw together, eyes suddenly suffused with determination, and he swiftly takes Kisumi’s hand.

“I promise, Kisumi,” he announces, squeezing slightly.

Kisumi squeezes Makoto’s hand back, enjoying the solid warmth of the promise it holds.

This time, Kisumi is sure that Makoto won’t break it.

*

The days pass, and Makoto keeps his promise. Each Wednesday, they head over to the rooftop, bentos and leftover homework tucked in their arms, as they share stories, food and test scores. Through Makoto, Kisumi learns the names of at least 100 Pokémon, the super fusion doppelganger formation, and the best places to pet a cat. Through Kisumi, Makoto learns the names of Western basketball teams and their respective star players, and that Kisumi has a cousin from Tokyo, Satsuki, who has an extremely talented, but exasperatingly stupid basketball jock for a best friend.

With each piece of himself that Makoto shares with him, Kisumi finds himself liking Makoto more and more. He laughs at Kisumi’s jokes, and sometimes lets Kisumi copy his Japanese homework. He’s kind and selfless and he has a really nice smile. A beautiful smile, even. And he’s almost always smiling.

Almost always.

One time, during the first day of exams, Makoto turns up to lunch looking morose and listless. He barely eats his food, just moving it around with his chopsticks. They are supposed to talk about their exams today, and Kisumi wants to compare their answers.

Maybe Makoto thinks he failed the exam? But history is one of his better subjects; it’s unlikely that he did poorly. He’s just staring at the sky now, not even pretending to eat anymore. He doesn't even notice when Kisumi rearranges his food into a scary face using seaweed, red ginger and salmon roe.

Disappointed at the lack of reaction, Kisumi puts down his own chopsticks and leans his head against Makoto’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Makoto’s shoulders hunch lower. “Nothing.”

Kisumi makes a tsk-ing sound. “Liar.”

Makoto’s face turns red and he buries his nose in between his knees. “I’m sorry.”

Kisumi slowly sits up straight, feeling his own mood dropping. He’s never seen Makoto like this. It worries him. “Why are you apologizing? Come on, you can tell me.”

Makoto doesn’t say anything for a long time. But when he finally turns to face Kisumi, his eyes don't have their usual calm brightness; instead, they are darkened by heavy emotions. “Kisumi…” he starts hesitantly. “Do you think I depend too much on Haru?”

Kisumi feels his own eyebrows rising at Makoto’s question— of all the things he assumed to bug Makoto, this is one of the last things he expected. “No I don’t. Why would you think that?”

"Nothing really. Just thinking."

Kisumi doesn't believe him but he'll let Makoto explain in his own time. "Well, I don't think you are, okay?" he declares, hoping to cheer Makoto up if he can't get a clear answer out of him. “Besides, you have other friends! Like me. I mean, Haru is my classmate but we don’t really talk too much. For example, I don’t know his favourite colour, or if he has any siblings, or if he likes mornings or evenings. I know he likes mackerel, because that’s all he ever eats.”

“Haru has no favourite colour. He’s a morning person. He has no siblings, although he treats the twins as a big brother would.” Makoto’s smile turns hollow, and his grip on his juice box tightens. “He’s probably a better big brother than I am.”

“That’s not true!"

“How do you know Kisumi? You haven’t even met my siblings. They love Haru. Haru does such a good job of protecting them.”

Kisumi is shocked to find Makoto acting this way, and apparently, so does Makoto, who quickly shakes his head and forces a smile back on his face.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice! You know what, maybe I’m just being silly, I’m probably just—”

“Why are you always doing that?” Kisumi demands, interrupting him.

Makoto’s smile wavers. “Doing what?”

“Saying sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for. Smiling when you’re not okay.”

For a moment, Makoto looks like he’s really about to break down, a glassy sheen filming over his eyes, mouth parted open, fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of his pants. “I…”

The bell signaling the end of lunch rings, interrupting him.

Makoto hurriedly gathers his still full bento. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow Kisumi,” he mumbles and bolts out without looking back.

*

That same afternoon, during their literature exams, there's a portion about haikus across the seasons. Kisumi thinks about Makoto, and how he’s all four seasons rolled into one.

For example, Makoto’s smiles are often bright like summer skies, and his skin is warm and golden, like the sands of the beach at high noon. His eyes are like the green of spring leaves, and his laughter blooms from his lips like flowers on a dewy morning.

But then, there are times, when he thinks that no one’s looking, his smile turns brittle, like the crunchy autumn leaves on the cold ground, and he wraps his arms around himself like it is winter inside of him.

He steals a glance at Haru, who is doodling on his notebook again.

He wants to tell Haru that Makoto is acting weird, and that he’s feeling bad, and that Haru should do something because he’s Makoto’s best friend and Haru needs to seek out Makoto sometimes too.

But he doesn’t. Kisumi refuses to interfere, especially when it’s quite clear Makoto would not want him to.

They’ll figure it out.

*

The next day, Haru actually turns in his seat to look at Kisumi. His normally passive eyes are troubled, almost accusatory, boring into Kisumi.

“What have you been telling Makoto?” he asks quietly.

“Eh? What are you talking about Haru?” Kisumi asks, genuinely confused. He saw Makoto before class, and he looked normal, happy even, cheerfully waving at Kisumi.

Haru’s looks at his hands before meeting Kisumi’s gaze again. “Yesterday he…”

Yesterday, Makoto was not himself, and near the end of their lunch period, he looked like he was about to cry. But Haru wasn’t there with them at that time, so this must be something else. Kisumi’s brow furrows. “He what?”

Haru lifts his chin, and for a moment, he seems frozen in thought, looking at Kisumi as if he’s trying to see into his very soul. Kisumi swallows— Haru’s intensity is something he is still getting used to, but he stays his ground, patiently willing for Haru to speak.

Finally, Haru purses his lips and looks away. “Never mind.”

Kisumi’s eyes narrow. No way is he letting Haru dismiss him just like that. He kept his distance before because it wasn’t his business but he can’t resist it anymore, especially now that Makoto’s concerned. “Yesterday, he told me he thinks you’re a better big brother to the twins than he is.”

Bingo. Haru bristles, and his eyes are flashing, almost angry when he whips back around to face Kisumi. “I hope you didn’t believe that.”

“I told him it’s not true.”

“Good.” Haru’s lips set themselves in a firm line, and he turns back to his desk. He resumes colouring his drawing, denoting the end of their conversation.

Kisumi still doesn’t want to let it slide and tries another approach. “...What’s wrong?” he asks cautiously, reaching out to briefly touch Haru’s arm. “You can tell me Haru. I…” He licks his lips and drops his voice to a pleading whisper. “...I’m your friend too.”

The sound of pencil scratching against paper pauses, and Kisumi briefly _feels_ the worry Haru refuses to admit to radiating from him: Haru’s grip on the blue pencil tightens, his breath hitches softly, and the line of his back goes rigid.

Then:  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He ignores Kisumi and returns to his drawing: goldfish in a background of blue.

*

Days pass. Makoto, Haru, Asahi and Ikuya win their relay and for a while, everyone is in high spirits. The cloud of resentment and anger that seems to perpetually surround Ikuya has lifted, and he's actually smiling a lot now, laughing with them. Even Haru is less ornery than usual, sometimes deigning to join in on their conversations, even if it's just to say snippy remarks about Asahi's loud boisterous jokes.

When winter comes, Kisumi and Makoto start taking their Wednesday lunches to the school canteen instead. It’s noisy and full of people, but Kisumi knows of a table for two that often goes unnoticed because it’s partially hidden by a large pillar.  

One day, while Kisumi is regaling his latest basketball win to Makoto, Makoto blurts out: “I quit the swimming club last week.”

The karaage piece Kisumi just bit into falls out of his mouth and back into his bento but he barely notices. “What? Why?!" he demands. "You were doing so well!”

“Because…” Makoto looks down, buries his nose between his knees, looking almost ashamed of what he’s about to admit. “Haru quit.”

This time it's Kisumi's chopsticks that clatter back into his bento. “Haru quit? Why?”

“He didn’t say. He just quit.”

“Why can’t he tell you? That’s so unfair." Kisumi suddenly feels angry. It's an emotion so unfamiliar to him, but he just couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Haru would keep his reasons from Makoto. His _best friend._ “After you quit basketball so you could join him too…”

“Kisumi, I decided to join him on my own. He never forced me, okay?"

"But why won't he tell you the reason?" Kisumi doesn't understand it. For Makoto and Haru to both quit something they love so dearly...it just doesn't make sense.

An idea comes to him. He quickly sits up straight, determined. "What if I ask him?"

Makoto shakes his head frantically, pleading. "No. Please don’t ask him, Kisumi. I respect Haru’s decision to quit and his decision to not tell me why.”

“But that’s….”

“I don’t want to force Haru to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Kisumi falls silent. Makoto's voice is steady and his expression is calm, but Kisumi can spot the way his fists are clenched tightly on the fabric of his gakuran. It will probably wrinkle later.  

Makoto is _not_ fine and Kisumi hates it. But if Makoto himself doesn't want to bother Haru about it, then Kisumi won't either. He doesn't like it— he believes that friends should be open to each other, especially about things like quitting a sport that is obviously dear to them but Kisumi also knows that it's not his place to meddle, no matter how much he wants to. He touches Makoto's knee instead, and rubs it gently, the comforting gesture the only thing he can do at the moment. "What are you going to do now?"

Makoto shrugs. "I don't know. Probably just be there for him I guess."

Kisumi looks down, his chest suddenly feeling tight. "Does this affect our Wednesday lunches?"

Makoto shakes his head, the expression on his face clearly conveying that he finds the very idea of it is a silly thing to worry about. Kisumi breathes a little easier. "Of course not. I promised you Kisumi. Besides... I really like spending time with you."

Kisumi feels his cheeks go warm, which is another unfamiliar feeling that he's experiencing around Makoto. “I like spending time with you too. Is Haru going to be okay though?”

Makoto sighs, the sound of it sounding deep and laborious, as if he’s trying to drain the air from his lungs. "I don’t really know. I hope so though.” He picks at his food, whittling down his barbecued eel to bite sized pieces. “I wish Rin were here. He's the one who got us all to do our first relay you know?"

"You mentioned it before yeah. I miss Rin too..." Kisumi makes a face and folds his arms, pouting. "But he's mean. Lately, he hasn't been replying to any of my letters.”

Makoto smiles wanly. “I don’t think he’s been replying to anyone."

“Australia is keeping him busy, huh?"

"Probably. But he's working very hard to fulfill his dreams."

"Yeah. Rin's going to be a star~!" Kisumi imagines Rin, standing on the first place podium, toothy grin outshining the gleam of all the gold medals and trophies surrounding him. "I hope he doesn't forget about us when that happens."

"I don't think he will." There's a wistful, faraway look in Makoto's eyes as he stares at the clouds and Kisumi just _knows_ that Makoto's imagining Rin looking up at the same sky at this moment. Maybe it brings him strength, this feeling of being bound by the sky, no matter how many oceans there are between them. "He won't forget Haru at least."

"Mmm." Kisumi shifts and moves closer to Makoto, so that their thighs are flush together, and Makoto relaxes against him, welcoming Kisumi's affection. "I really hope Haru will be okay."

"He will."

That wasn’t what he said earlier. But it’s a good change, Kisumi muses. Amazing how just the thought of a single person, even an absent one, can alter another’s perspective. He follows Makoto’s gaze and looks at the sky too, sending a mental thank you to Rin for meeting Haru and Makoto when he did.

The two of them don’t say anything more, basking in the peace of the moment. It’s not very often that they do this, considering how the two of them are both fairly talkative, but it’s a welcome change.

After a while, Kisumi turns towards Makoto, the strands of his light silky hair tickling Makoto's higher, broader shoulders. "Will _you_ be okay?"

"Of course." Makoto does that head-tilt thing where his eyes are crinkled at the corners, as if trying to meet the edges of his smile. "I still have you don't I?"

*

On their third year of middle school, Valentine’s day falls on a Wednesday, and since it’s winter, it’s way too cold to go up to the roof. But they don’t want to go to the cafeteria either because as two of the most popular boys in their grade, they will surely be bombarded and they won’t be able to have lunch in peace.

And so, Kisumi decides to make use of his vice-captain perks and sneaks himself and Makoto into the indoor basketball court to count this year’s chocolate haul.

“How many did you get?” Kisumi asks, looking at Makoto’s impressive bag of chocolates.

“I haven’t really counted,” Makoto answers with an embarrassed laugh, as they settle themselves on one of the bleachers.

“Too many then,” Kisumi says, grinning as he places his own bag in the middle. “I’m honestly expecting more after class.”

“Of course you’d get more, you're very popular with the ladies,” Makoto quips teasingly as he opens his own bag.

Kisumi smirks and nudges Makoto playfully. "Look who's talking." He picks up a small box from his stash and frowns at it. “Hey, you like orange chocolate right?”

Makoto looks up from his own chocolate selection process. “Yes, but I don’t think anyone gave me some.”

Well, that makes it easier then. “Here.”

“Eh?” Makoto’s eyes widen at the box Kisumi is thrusting in his direction. “What’s this for?”

“It's for you, silly.”

“But it’s yours, I just can’t take it,” Makoto protests.

“They’ll never know anyway. Besides, I don’t like orange chocolate that much. Strawberry though…” He glances at the huge strawberry chocolate lying on top of Makoto’s bag.

Makoto’s eyes widen. “Oh! Then in that case, let’s trade!” he replies, beaming as he hands over the strawberry chocolate.

Kisumi gratefully accepts. “I accept your chocolate, Makoto,” he says in a humble tone, bowing slightly. “Please accept mine in turn.”

Makoto’s face grows the colour of the strawberry printed on the chocolate's packaging. “H-hey... when you say it like that…”

Kisumi grins. It's so much fun to tease this boy. “Why are you so red?"

"Because you're making it sound so weird!” Makoto whines, still blushing.

"What, you’re the one adding some meaning to it!”

“I’m not!”

Kisumi smirks and leans back against the bleachers. “Then tell me you accept my chocolate too.”

A fresh wave of suspicion sweeps over Makoto’s features but Kisumi just rests his chin on his palm, blinking innocently.

Finally Makoto relents. With his face still flushed a deep red, he grasps the block of orange chocolate in his right hand and holds it to his chest. “Thank you for the chocolate Kisumi.”

“You’re welcome Makoto,” Kisumi returns, smiling sweetly. "I’m very happy to be your Valentine.”

Makoto groans and buries his face in his hands, giving Kisumi a good view of the scarlet tips of his ears. “You’re always teasing me.”

“Well that’s because you’re so fun to tease!”

Makoto pouts but he doesn't deny the statement. He opts to stuff a large Choco bonbon in his mouth in lieu of replying, and Kisumi snickers before looking back at his stash.

One of Kisumi’s more generous admirers gave him a whole bag of that American chocolate: Hershey’s Kisses. _Kisses for Kiss me_ ~ the note said, and Kisumi giggles to himself at how clever it is. The flavour is not something he’s fond of though— it's cookies and cream. He loves chocolate but American brands always tend to be too sweet. But maybe…

Kisumi sneaks a look at Makoto, who is currently deciding which chocolate to sample next from his haul. An idea forms in his head. He opens the bag of Hershey’s Kisses and plucks one, rolling the brightly covered treat in his palm.

“Hey Makoto.”

Makoto looks up. “What is it?”

Kisumi holds the single Kiss in between his thumb and forefinger. "Let’s play a game.”

“Eh? What kind of game?”

“We get 5 pieces each. One who catches the most with his mouth wins the whole bag.”

This way, he can give Makoto chocolates indirectly. Kisumi mentally pats himself on the back for his genius. “The catch is, I’ll be the one to toss it to you. And vice versa.”

Makoto scoots closer and looks longingly at the large bag, the blue and silver wrapping of the chocolate glinting enticingly in the soft winter light. “The twins really like the Hershey’s chocolates…” he mumbles to himself, looking indecisive before finally answering: “Okay.”

So Kisumi throws Kisses, and Makoto catches them. Kisumi knows that Makoto is a completely different person when it comes to games of any sort, and gradually admits defeat— he only caught a couple and wasted 3 perfectly good chocolate pieces, while Makoto caught every single one of them.

"It just means I'm a really good shooter," Kisumi says, mock-pouting as he hands Makoto his prize.

“Or maybe it’s just because I’m a good catcher,” Makoto shoots back, happily claiming the bag of Kisses from Kisumi. “Thanks Kisumi, the twins are going to love this!”

Kisumi clasps his hands on his lap, feeling the familiar flutter of giddiness buoying him up, as he watches the way Makoto carefully sets the bag of Kisses aside before picking up the orange chocolate Kisumi gave him.

"You’re welcome Makoto," he finally says, just in time to meet Makoto's eyes again.

*

Over the years they've known each other, Kisumi has learned that Makoto gets embarrassed really easily, and his face undergoes different shades of red depending on the degree of his embarrassment. Like Kisumi’s mom's makeup palettes, Makoto has a blush for every occasion.

If Kisumi pays him a sincere compliment, there's only the lightest dusting of pink on Makoto’s cheeks. If Kisumi makes comments about his funny English, Makoto will have a slightly deeper flush, and his voice goes all whiny as he makes excuses about his poor performance, and Kisumi will quickly apologize and compliment his other subjects  (like Japanese literature), after which Makoto's face will relax, appeased, and will eventually go back to Blush #1.

When Kisumi feeds him by hand with anything— sushi, mochi, or even a pocky stick, Makoto will grow bright pink and stammer a lot but will ultimately let Kisumi deposit said food into his mouth.

If Kisumi teases him about rumours of the girls in his class that have a crush on him, his entire face rapidly approaches the shade of an over-ripe cherry, and he immediately starts changing the subject or deflecting Kisumi with timely compliments about how Kisumi is so good-looking and intelligent, which Kisumi admits, always works because he likes it a little too much when Makoto says nice things about him.

Today, Kisumi wants to test if he can add a new shade.

He curls his fingers on the rings of the rooftop fence, watching as some of his classmates enjoy the falling cherry blossoms from the tree in their courtyard. It's spring again, the school year is about to end, and Kisumi just found out he and Makoto are not going to the same high school. So today is the day he's finally going to do _it._

“Hey Makoto," he asks casually, still looking at the students on the school grounds below him. "Have you ever had a crush on a girl?”

Makoto looks up from the homework he's working on and furrows his brow. “Huh? I don’t think so…”

“Really? But... didn't you get a lot of chocolates last month?”

Blush #4 makes its way across Makoto's face, which Kisumi thinks is a bit too early for what Kisumi has planned for him. “Yes well...I don’t like rejecting gifts, and I really love chocolates.”

Kisumi finally lets go of the fence and goes back to their lunch spot, before sitting down right in front of Makoto, their knees touching. “But you accepted them all the same right?”

“Yes but why are you asking me anyway?" Makoto rests his hands on his knees and rocks slightly, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "I don’t even know what to do when I get a crush." Then he glances at Kisumi, and Kisumi notices that he's biting his lip, which means that he's about to resort to his misdirection tactics. "I bet _you_ would though, since more girls like you."

Kisumi feels that is quite untrue— Makoto has just as many admirers as Kisumi; he just insists that he doesn't. Kisumi will tease him about his math someday too. But today, he is on a very important mission and he really doesn't want to argue with Makoto about who has more girls right now. "Well, you’d confess to them of course! Maybe on White Day!" he says, relaying his strictly theoretical expertise with as much confidence as he's capable of. "And then you go on a date, you buy her ice cream, and you walk her home and give her a kiss.”

Makoto wrinkles his nose. “Isn't that a little too fast?”

“No it’s not," Kisumi insists, and then promptly reveals the source of his expertise: "That’s what happens in books and movies.”

Makoto still looks skeptical but eventually accepts Kisumi's claims all the same. “Okay… well then how would you know _when_ to kiss?”

And there it is. Kisumi has been waiting for this moment— has been practicing it before he goes to sleep for the past few nights. He scoots a little closer. “Well, it won’t apply to you, but I have this really slick move.”

“Slick?”

“Yeah." Kisumi watches as Makoto shifts forward, mirroring Kisumi's movements subconsciously. It makes Kisumi both delighted and nervous, his heartbeat picking up speed as he brings up his hand to cup his mouth and whispers his secret: "I’ll ask them to say my name.”

“What, they’ll just say Kisummmph~!”

Makoto doesn't even finish saying his name because Kisumi has already darted forward to brush his lips against Makoto's, soft and feather light. He relishes the split second mingling of his and Makoto's breath before he darts away again, quick like a fox. “See?" he declares, keeping his grin as casual as possible, despite the fact that his heart is behaving like he just sprinted 100 meters. "Smooth right?”

Makoto snaps out of his daze, his hands flying to his mouth. “Kisumi!” he cries.

Kisumi shrugs and takes another sip of his juice, hoping Makoto doesn’t notice how his hand is shaking a little. “You asked for a demo.”

“But I didn’t know you’d actually _kiss_ me.”

“Eh, what’s the big deal? We already feed each other using our own chopsticks so we’ve shared many indirect kisses already, don't you think?”

Makoto makes a whimpering sound like a puppy getting stuck in a fence, a dark blush slowly blooming across his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and even the back of his neck. Looks like Kisumi just discovered Blush #5.

Kisumi doesn't get to see it for long though because Makoto immediately slaps both his hands over his face, pressing deep like his face would come off if more blood would rush into it. "Kisumi..." he mumbles through his hands. "You’re so… why are you saying these things?"

Kisumi feels his stomach drop at Makoto's words, and he reaches out, hesitantly touching Makoto’s shoulder. “I’m sorry… was it really that bad?”

Makoto takes a beat to reply, though he still doesn't remove his hands from his face. “No. You just surprised me. It… it was my first kiss.”

“Well, you know it doesn’t count if you don’t kiss me back,” Kisumi says with a smile too bright for how he actually feels.

Makoto peeks at him from between his fingers. “Now you’re just making things up.”

Kisumi laughs, but it's hollow, the heavy feeling in his stomach twisting into a mess of bad emotions— guilt, regret, sadness, everything the aftermath of a kiss shouldn't feel like. “Yeah well… I just…” He swallows hard, feeling his face heat up with humiliation. “I’m sorry, you probably hated it…”

Makoto’s eyes widen and his hands drop from his face. He shakes his head vigorously. “No, I didn’t say I hated it!”

Kisumi bites his lip and turns away. “It’s okay," he whispers quietly. "You don’t have to lie."

“Kisumi I really didn’t." Makoto has scooted closer to him now, their knees knocking together. "It— it was actually quite nice.”

Kisumi blinks and looks up. “Nice?”

“Yeah! It was just a quick one right? I really don’t mind, because it’s you.” Makoto looks a lot less shy now, his budding confidence making the redness recede from his face. He’s in his natural element now, diverting attention from himself and focusing on making others feel better. “I mean, you’re a really good friend. And you’re very pretty.”

Now it's Kisumi's turn to blush— darnit, Makoto's been really good about turning the tables on him recently. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah." Makoto realizes the easiness in which he admitted to that a little later than he wants because he hurriedly adds: "But that's not all the reason I didn't mind it okay? Um. Just..."

Kisumi spares Makoto from explaining and decides to take this conversation a step further. “You’re not saving it for someone else are you?”

“No?” Makoto looks startled at the question. “Who would I save it for?”

“I don’t know. A girl. One of your other friends.”

“Who, like... Haru?” Makoto tilts his head, confused. “But he’s my best friend.”

“So? It’s not really that uncommon for best friends to get together.” Kisumi presses. He's not really sure why, but he feels that the outcome of this line of questioning would be very important for what he'd like to do next. “You guys have this special connection.”

“Eh? We’re just childhood friends!”

“That’s what he said too! Wow, so it's true that you read each other's minds.”

“We don't!" Makoto protests. "I just know him very well— we grew up together you know?”

“See, that’s pretty special.”

“Well okay..." Makoto concedes, still looking unsure. "But you can have a special relationship without it being… you know… “

Kisumi immediately continues that one. “Romantic?”

Blush #3 makes it to Makoto's face. “You sound like Rin.”

Kisumi feels mildly offended. “Excuse me, Rin makes a fool of himself showing off to girls. I don’t show off, girls come flocking to me.”

“No you just show off about having many girls show off to you.”

Kisumi lightly shoves Makoto. “I don’t show off!”

Makoto laughs, the sound of it melodious in Kisumi’s ears, like wind chimes ringing after a summer breeze, and the bad feeling in his stomach goes away, replaced by a lightness and warmth he's come to associate with Makoto's company. “Oh yes you do.”

Kisumi mock pouts. “Why Makoto, I didn’t realize you're always watching me so intently.”

Makoto's laughter dies and turns into undignified sputtering. "What— no I don't!"

At this point, they’re just practically playing a game of blush ping pong now, which is possibly the one game Makoto can’t beat Kisumi at. Kisumi laughs, teases Makoto a little more, and soon, they're back to their regular scheduled programming— him feeding Makoto while Makoto hurriedly copies Kisumi's English homework.

He doesn’t tell Makoto that it was his first kiss too.

He most especially doesn’t tell Makoto that it totally counts for him.

*

On the day of their graduation, Kisumi approaches Makoto after the ceremony, second button of his gakuran clutched tightly in his fist.

Today, he's going to give it to Makoto, and tell him the secret he's been keeping for so long. They might never see each other again, so this might be the only opportunity he’ll get.

He'll tell him: "I like you Makoto, and I meant it when I kissed you that day on the rooftop."

But when Makoto turns around to smile at him, Kisumi immediately notices that his second button is still fully intact, and in that moment his resolve shatters.

"Kisumi," Makoto greets, closing the distance between them. His smile is beautiful, full of warmth and heart, and Kisumi's chest feels tight at the thought that this might be the last time he'll see it headed this way. "Congratulations."

Kisumi swallows past the lump in his throat, but words don't come out. He doesn't want to say congratulations. He doesn't want to say goodbye. All he wants to do is take Makoto's hand and curl his fingers around that second button— _please take my heart with you wherever you go._

But he can't say it. So instead, he lets that last bolt of courage propel him forward, and he throws his arms around Makoto, hugging him.

"I'm going to miss you," he says in Makoto's ear, fighting back tears. His mind plays a cache of images, memories of the times they’ve spent together— tamago and chocolate bars, cookies and cream Kisses sailing in mid-air, the bright circle of the sun against an ever blue sky, his light pink hair splayed across Makoto’s shoulder, the seasons of Makoto’s smile. Kisumi takes every single one of these images and fastens a heart to them.

Makoto slowly wraps his arms around him, squeezing back, and Kisumi never wants to let go. "Hey, we'll see each other again someday," he reassures him quietly. "It won't be the end."

"I hope so." Kisumi really wants to believe it. He closes his eyes, allows himself three seconds more to savour this feeling, Makoto’s body warm and solid in his embrace, before reluctantly disengaging.

His hand slides around Makoto's back, gliding down his hips, and before he loses his courage, discreetly drops the second button in Makoto's pocket.

Makoto doesn't notice. He just smiles at Kisumi again and hands him a tissue for his tears.

"Let's play basketball next time we meet," Makoto suggests. It's so like Makoto to say this, to act like there won't be this massive distance between them, like going out for hoops with Kisumi is something he can just do anytime, anywhere.

 _Next time you call my name, I'll kiss you again_ , Kisumi doesn't reply.

Instead, he nods, and flashes him his most brilliant smile, committing Makoto's expression to memory, hoping to keep it far longer than this moment would last.

"I look forward to it."

~tbc~

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to [ lisettedelapin ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lisettedelapin) for giving me the idea of the Hershey's Kisses Tossing scene ♥


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